


forget this life, forget this universe

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, he has no plan. He doesn’t even have a thing that might possibly become a plan with enough talking and a bit of luck. There is no grand scheme to save himself this time and the Doctor has finally made peace with that. The Silence think they’ve gotten the better of him but he knows differently. He isn’t being defeated – he’s surrendering. Not to them, of course. Never to them. He isn’t even dying for the universe this time. He’s dying for River Song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget this life, forget this universe

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the comic The Four Doctors, in which we see an alternate timeline where River broke time to save him in TWORS and instead of choosing the universe, the Doctor chose to live a normal married life with River. 
> 
> [You can find the comic here](http://riveralwaysknew.tumblr.com/post/141221533902/the-four-doctors-2015-the-doctor-chooses-river)
> 
> Story title from Four Color Love Story by Metasciences. Thanks to Kaz and Alyssa for the feedback!

 

For once, he has no plan. He doesn’t even have a thing that might possibly become a plan with enough talking and a bit of luck. There is no grand scheme to save himself this time and the Doctor has finally made peace with that. The Silence think they’ve gotten the better of him but he knows differently. He isn’t being defeated – he’s surrendering. Not to them, of course. Never to them. He isn’t even dying for the universe this time. He’s dying for River Song.

 

Maybe once he’s gone, she’ll be free.

 

She would call it stupid and sentimental. She would say he’s only doing it out of a sense of guilt for the way her life turned out because of him. And maybe he is stupid and sentimental but right now, he’d say they’re even. Destroying time for one man is the stupidest thing he’s even seen – and he’s seen a lot of stupid things in his long life.

 

It infuriates him.

 

_She_ infuriates him. She’s supposed to be better than him, stronger and cleverer, his voice of reason in all the madness. The Doctor is a selfish man by nature – plucking humans from their normal lives and enticing them into his time machine with promises of stars and planets and adventure. He’s seen what his influence does to them and what happens when they stay too long. He’s seen them broken and torn away, seen them die. And he keeps taking them anyway because he needs them.

 

Just like he needs River to do what he can’t.

 

She’s always been able to until now – when he needs her the most. He stares at her open, trusting face and those defiant eyes and feels fury curl around his hearts. He sets his jaw, teeth grinding together. She needs to be better. Why isn’t she _better_?

 

“Billions on billions will suffer and die!”

 

“I’ll suffer, if I have to kill you.”

 

“More than every living thing in the universe?”

 

She stares at him, her eyes wide. For one still, quiet moment he thinks he’s actually gotten through to her. Finally, she’s listening. River blinks and a tear slips down her cheek as she admits softly, “Yes.”

 

It’s when she breathes out that one word that he finally realizes how terribly young she is. He has never seen her quite so raw. Not even Berlin had shown him such damage. The Doctor gazes across the reactor – her own creation, his clever girl – and stares at her, his hearts in his throat and a backdrop of stars all around them. River stares right back, her eyes bright with hope and tears. The breeze tumbles curls across her forehead and her pink-flushed cheek. She’s young and impetuous and not at all the wise River he’s used to, the one he needs to do the right thing. It suddenly doesn’t matter.

 

His frustration melts away at the sight of her trembling lips and he aches down to his very bones with what this woman means to him. She’s brave and clever and beautiful and his equal in every way. All of time is happening at once but nothing in the whole course of history matters to him quite as much as River Song standing before him - broken and tired of being a pawn in someone else’s game, asking him to play a new one with her. Asking him to love her enough to give her more time in a universe quickly running out of it.

 

It’s his job to save the universe, to right the chaos of this timeline and put everything back the way it should be. It’s always been his job. No one ever asked him to do it but there’s never been anyone else to take up the mantle and he couldn’t bear to just stand by like his people, watching the lights go out. He doesn’t even remember what it’s like to do something without the greater good being his end goal. He’d thought it was all for naught – had been so ready to die believing the universe had never cared.

 

But River had been there to show him otherwise. The universe does care about him. It always has – but never more than her. He was alone for so long, plodding along with his human friends but never having what he craved – someone to stand beside him. An equal. Until suddenly he’d had her holding his hand and pulling him along with a wink. Someone who put him first, above the universe and even above herself. If he chooses to fix time, one day she’ll die putting him first.

 

But River Song doesn’t want him to die for her. She wants him to live.

 

He doesn’t want to deny her - not anything, and least of all something he’ll never admit aloud that he yearns for just as much. Peace. Happiness. A life with the woman who has broken him open after centuries of being so tightly shut away and made him just as raw as she.

 

The universe will always need saving, just once more. Always just once more. When will it ever be enough? Not even the Doctor is immortal and he can’t be the universe’s keeper forever. He looks at River, his River so sure no one will ever suffer more if she loses him, and can’t think of a better time to hang up his hat.

 

The Doctor swallows and feels a tired smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. “River Song… Melody Pond.” He sighs, watching fondly as her curious eyes widen. “You win.”

 

He marries her in a wartime ceremony, wrapping his hand around one end of his bowtie and careful not to touch her as she does the same. He snaps at Amy and Rory to consent, eager to seal his promise before he can change his mind. River leans in tantalizingly close - her eyes are so bright and so clear, so young and he can catch the scent of her perfume in the breeze wafting around them.

 

His hearts swell and when he whispers his name into the curls of her hair, he has no regrets.

 

-

 

This world takes some getting used to. Neither of them is accustomed to domesticity and they simply cannot settle down – at least not right away. Their first few weeks, or rather what passes for them in a world where time never really passes, they spend hunting down the Kovarian chapter. Or rather, the Doctor finds them and River dispatches of them while he looks the other way.

 

It’s a necessity if they want to live peacefully in this world, which he tells himself every time River holsters her gun with a wink and purrs _lovely honeymoon, sweetie_. As far as honeymoons actually go, he’d been hoping for something a bit more romantic but when he remembers they can’t even touch anyway, he decides taking River out to shoot the baddies had probably been the next best option anyway.

 

When it’s over, the Doctor is weary and the fire of vengeance has died in River’s eyes but their new world is safe from any threat except time itself. The Doctor smiles at River over the limp body of the last fallen Silent and says, “Let’s go home, dear.”

 

At first he tries to find a job, something to keep him occupied while River is teaching classes or digging up pottery in her spare time. He’s qualified for exactly nothing and everything at once and he doesn’t know quite where to begin. He works at a shop again for a while but he’d almost run into a teenage Mels and had to duck behind a display of discounted custard until she’d gone. He’d tried his hand as museum tour guide but a school group including little Mels, Amelia, and Rory had wandered in and he’d jumped out a second story window to avoid a paradox. The universe, it seems, would very much like to be fixed even if the Doctor isn’t keen on doing so.

 

He stops trying to find jobs after that.

 

He doesn’t regret choosing River - he never could. Feeling guilt for choosing her, however, is another matter entirely. Every time he ventures outside of the home they’ve made for themselves and he sees Roman soldiers on hover boards and the founding fathers with machine guns strapped to their backs, Marie Antoinette batting her eyes at a member of One Direction, he’s reminded of how wrong this world is and exactly what he should be doing about it.

 

Every moment of every day, he feels time dying all around him. Some days his body is heavy with it and every step is like trudging uphill through thick sludge. The wrongness of it all gets under his skin, makes him shudder like nails on a chalkboard. It creeps into his dreams at night.

 

But then he wakes and River is there to smile at him and burn her fifth attempt at blueberry muffins because she’d been too busy stuffing his latest hat down the garbage disposal. She blows him a kiss and rushes off to work and it’s so easy to forget about the universe and just feel happy. Eventually, the universe gets easier and easier to ignore.

 

Some nights, he doesn’t dream at all.

 

The days pass by - actually, more like all the days at the same time - in the sort of contented domestic life he never thought he would have again after Gallifrey. He has a home that stays in one spot and someone to come home to and cook with and scoff at the telly with. There’s even a vegetable patch in the garden. He hates vegetables but he rather likes tending to them. Well, he likes talking to them. River insists he cannot speak vegetable but the peas don’t even like her so what does she know?

 

River works during the day to keep herself occupied, delighting in classrooms filled with Washington’s soldiers and time agents. She always comes home with at least one belter of a story to tell and the Doctor’s favorite part of the day is making her tea and listening to her.

 

“Hi honey, I’m home.”

 

He glances up from his book - Agatha Christie’s latest - and feels a grin already tugging at his mouth. “That’s my line, Mrs. Doctor.”

 

River throws her coat over the back of an armchair and tucks her satchel out of sight, humming as she crosses the distance between them and stops just before they touch. His eyes widen in alarm and River smirks, her fingers hovering just above his bowtie. For a moment he imagines her adjusting it the way she always used to and feels so much longing it takes his breath away.

 

He licks his lips and River tilts her head, studying him like she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. Her curls brush her shoulder and her lashes flutter as she murmurs, “Learn to share, Mr. Song.”

 

And then she retreats to the other end of the living room and the Doctor blinks after her with his mouth open. River curls up on the sofa, looking pleased with herself. The Doctor frowns, scratches his cheek, and fights back the urge to blush. She can’t even touch him and she still rattles him.

 

“Right,” he mumbles, clearing this throat. River arches a brow at him. He leaps to his feet and claps his hands together, grinning. “I’ll make the tea, shall I?”

 

He makes her a cuppa just how she likes it but it takes him longer than it should - every time he glances toward the living room and catches sight of River stretched out along the sofa, bare foot and relaxed against the cushions, he inevitably drops something and has to start over. When he finally wanders back to her side balancing two cups and a plate of biscuits, River looks up at him and beams.

 

“Did you make those?”

 

He nods, feeling smug when she immediately reaches for one and bites into it with a hum of approval. Actually, more of a moan. A very sexy, torturous moan that the Doctor doesn’t find necessary in the slightest. He blushes and sinks into the chair opposite the sofa, crossing his legs immediately.

 

River doesn’t notice, too busy enjoying her warm biscuit. “A husband who makes biscuits and waits for me to get home,” she muses, eyeing him through her lashes. “Never pegged you for the kept sort, sweetie. What a lucky girl I am.”

 

The Doctor preens, tugging at his bowtie. “So,” he begins, reaching for a biscuit and popping it into his mouth. “How was work today, dear?”

 

Rolling her eyes fondly as he brushes crumbs from his jacket, River curls her hands around her mug of tea and launches into a story about another brawl between a young Alexander Hamilton and Alexander the Great.

 

He sips his tea and tracks her animated gestures with his eyes. Right now, Winston Churchill is riding an elephant down Main Street and Queen Elizabeth II’s court is learning all the steps to Thriller but inside their cozy living room, the Doctor looks at River Song and feels content and in love and warm from the inside out with gooey biscuits and perfect tea.

 

The guilt is very far away.

 

-

 

Some days, it is all he can do not to touch her. The temptation is maddening and they take every precaution against it – he sets her cup of tea down on the table instead of handing it to her and they never sit on the same sofa or sleep in the same bed. They don’t even sit on the same side of the table at dinner, instead gazing at each other from opposite ends so there isn’t even a chance of their feet touching.

 

He presses his fingers to his lips when he wants to kiss her and watches River’s eyes darken with the same want as she returns the gesture with her fingertips lightly caressing her mouth. He touches his hair when he gets the urge to run his fingers through hers. River touches the hollow of her throat and he adjusts his bowtie and lets her watch. He stands dangerously - perilously - close just to feel the heat radiating from her body and hear the hitch in River’s steady breathing.

 

It isn’t enough.

 

With no other choice, they get creative. He touches himself with her voice in his ear and her eyes on him, listening to her tell him exactly how she would touch him if she could. He comes with tears of frustration stinging his eyes because he’ll never know any touch but his own again.

 

But he always returns the favor.

 

River strips out of her clothes by peeling off whatever item of clothing he orders her to next and spreads out on her bed with his dark eyes on her, following his softly murmured directions on where and how to touch herself. He watches her fall apart and it’s his name on her lips but the sun’s rays peeking through their windows and touching her face. He’s never been so jealous of a burning star before.

 

When he’s so in love he can barely look at her, terrified if he looks directly at her she’ll vanish like a mirage, he presses his hand over his hearts and watches River’s eyes fill up as she mouths _I love you too_.

 

They never tire of finding ways to express affection without touching but sometimes the Doctor thinks it would be worth it to die if he could just kiss her once more before he goes.

 

-

 

He finds her hiding from him in the garden, sitting in the soil of the vegetable patch and poking at a tomato with the butt of her gun. He winces in sympathy - both because he’s been on the receiving end of River’s gun enough times to know what it feels like and because he knows the tomatoes are already particularly skittish vegetables. River’s going to stunt their growth.

 

Crossing the distance between them, the Doctor lopes across the yard with his hands in his pockets and watches River studiously avoid looking at him. She’s been skittish for days, barely meeting his eyes, barely speaking to him. He wonders if she can feel the increasingly rapid disintegration of time as well as he can. Sometimes it’s a bit much to carry – knowing the happiness they’ve found here is killing everyone and everything.

 

Slowly, making sure to keep a careful distance between them, the Doctor lowers himself into the vegetable patch alongside his wife. River still won’t look at him so he pats a tomato reassuringly and says, “Don’t worry - she likes you too much on sandwiches to actually hurt you.”

 

River glances up – he swallows a triumphant grin – and scoffs. “Stop talking to the vegetables.”

 

“I will,” he promises, lifting his chin. “Just as soon as they stop talking back.”

 

She rolls her eyes.

 

The Doctor reaches out a hand and taps her gun. River breathes in like she can feel it, her eyes wide and fastened on his fingertips stroking along the barrel. He hears her swallow and says softly, “Bit desperate for conversation these days. My wife’s giving me the silent treatment.”

 

River avoids his gaze. “Maybe she doesn’t have anything to say.”

 

“Maybe,” he agrees, and hooks a finger around the trigger guard – close enough to River’s fingers to startle her into letting go. “Or maybe she’s afraid of what she might say if she does speak.”

 

Eyes fastened on the bruised tomato, River purses her lips and blinks slowly. The Doctor watches the way her lips tremble and wishes not for the first time that he could soothe her the way he used to, with his hands and his mouth. Words have always been his greatest weapon but with River, it never feels like enough.

 

“Time is dying.”

 

He studies her silently for a moment but when she offers nothing else, he nods. “Yes.”

 

“Because of us.”

 

“Yes.”

 

River bites her lip. “Don’t you care?”

 

He blinks at her. “Of course I do.”

 

“I thought you’d have stopped me by now - touched my hand while I was sleeping, nudged my foot at dinner, kissed me, anything.” She swallows, risking a quick glance at him. “I never thought you would… stay.”

 

Hearts aching, the Doctor turns over the gun in his hands and speaks at it instead of River. “You’re not going to do anything else you don’t want to do, River - not even save the universe. Not if I can help it.”

 

“I’ll never want to kill you, sweetie. The rest of the universe can hang for all I care.” She looks at him, eyes wide and imploring. “If you’re leaving it up to me, time will die.”

 

He meets her gaze steadily. “Then it dies.”

 

Her brow furrows. “And you’re… all right with that?”

 

“Am I alright with prolonging death to spend my last days with you?” The Doctor gives her a smile, small and weary and genuine. “Can’t think of a better way to go.”

 

River stares at him like he has three heads.

 

The Doctor sighs and licks his lips, glancing away. “It eats away at me every day, River. The universe is dying and I’m not doing a thing to help it. I’m making you tea and talking to tomatoes and it’s _wrong_. Everything here is very wrong.” He swallows, lifting his eyes to hers again. “Except you. And I can’t regret that. I won’t.”

 

Blinking away tears, River huffs and twists her hands on her lap. “We’re being selfish.”

 

He nods. “You can touch my hand right now. Change it all.”

 

She lifts her head so fast her curls bounce violently around her shoulders. The Doctor hides a smile, watching fondly as she says, “Never.”

 

“So it’s settled?”

 

River nods, her eyes steely and determined, her mouth a grim line of resolve. The Doctor watches her, his bespoke psychopath – his murderess letting the universe fall apart to spare him. He should reach out right now, wrap his hand around her wrist and end it all. Instead, he puts aside the gun and rests his chin in his hands, gazing at her.

 

She tilts her head, absently plucking a ripened tomato and peering at it. He can practically see the poor thing quaking in her hand, desperately wanting approval. He knows the feeling. “What are you thinking about?”

 

He hums and whispers, “Hugging you.”

 

Eyes bright, she sets aside the tomato and wraps her arms around herself - a pale imitation of an embrace. “Like this?”

 

The Doctor shakes his head, smiling wearily. “Tighter than that.”

 

She closes her eyes, tightening her grip on her arms, and frowns. “Not quite the same, is it?”

 

He swallows around the lump in his throat and says softly, “Look at me, River.”

 

She blinks open her eyes.

 

The Doctor presses his hand over his hearts.

 

River smiles.

 

-

 

Generally, he avoids spending too much time in the city – it’s more difficult than ever to ignore the wrongness of this world if he has to be faced with Noel Fielding and Oscar Wilde out drinking together or Abraham Lincoln and David Cameron bickering over cards. Instead, when the urge to move is too much to ignore and River is at work, the Doctor takes walks.

 

He never strays near the crowded streets, too wary of running into Mels again. He hasn’t yet run into another regeneration of himself but really, it’s only a matter of time if he isn’t careful. Considering he isn’t quite sure what would happen if he did meet himself, he keeps to lonesome back roads and worn paths in the woods instead. It isn’t the exciting adventure he’s used to but it stretches his legs and gets his hearts going - River insists she does that enough all on her own and the insinuation never fails to make him blush and protest it _isn’t the same_.

 

Sometimes he even finds something to do when he goes out, forging new paths through the trees and pretending he’s an explorer discovering uncharted lands. It’s how he finds new places to take River – caves for her to explore and lakes to swim in, fields of flowers where he knows she’d like to picnic. If he ignores the dirigibles and planes and spaceships sharing the sky overhead, it almost feels like a normal, domestic life.

 

It’s just such an afternoon, sunny and bright and exactly 5:02 just as every day before it has been and every day after it will be, when he stumbles across his greatest discovery. A small boy huddled inside the hollow trunk of a tree right in the middle of the forest, curled into himself for warmth and his little face tucked against his dirty knees.

 

The Doctor approaches with a gentle smile and an offering of one of the chocolates in his pocket, coaxing the boy from his hiding place. Three chocolates and a very silly joke later, he learns the boy is called Leo and he doesn’t have any parents.

 

All of time happening all at once – he should have realized so many children would need looking after. Guilt settling between his hearts once more, the Doctor carries Leo home. He cleans him up and feeds him and by the time River gets home, he’s wearing a bowtie and eating fish custard out of her best china.

 

River pauses in the doorway, gaping at the boy sitting at their table precariously balanced on several heavy archaeology textbooks so he can see over the top – the Doctor had been pleased to finally find a practical use for the dusty things. Slowly, she searches him out with wide eyes and asks, “Sweetie?”

 

He grins, pointing excitedly at the boy. “He followed me home. Can we keep him, dear?”

 

She laughs, staring at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

 

Tugging at his jacket, the Doctor says, “I’ve never been seriouser.”

 

River snorts, realizes he actually means it when his firm expression doesn’t change, and shakes her head quickly. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

His face falls and she sighs as he asks, “Why not?”

 

“Sweetie, we can’t take care of a toddler!” She throws up her hands. “Between the two of us, I very much doubt we could keep a fish alive!”

 

The Doctor frowns. “We’re looking after vegetables. They seem to be doing alright.”

 

She squints at him. “Are you comparing a little boy to a tomato?”

 

He thinks about agreeing but the tone of her voice tells him that wouldn’t be the right answer so he shakes his head and mumbles, “Of course not.”

 

“We’ll look after him until we can find someone suitable but only until then. Don’t get attached, sweetie. And for heaven’s sake, don’t you dare name him.”

 

The boy looks up. “Leo!”

 

The Doctor grins at him, spots River’s glare, and holds up his hands. “Oi! It wasn’t my idea – he already had one!”

 

River sighs, reaching out for him and freezing halfway there as though she’d been about to lay a hand against his cheek and forgotten she couldn’t. She quickly drops her arm, clasping her hands tightly together behind her back.

 

He stares at her with longing, watching her glance cautiously at the boy studying her in quiet fascination. “I’ve done all this before, you know.”

 

River glances at him, eyes soft. “I know.”

 

“I could do it again.”

 

“I know that too.” She sighs, watching the boy drag another fish finger through custard, all while never taking his eyes from her hair. “But this – what we have now – is enough, sweetie. I don’t need you to slap together a haphazard family because you think it’s what I want -”

 

“And what if it’s what I want too?”

 

River stares at him. “What?”

 

The Doctor turns away from her, running a hand through his hair. For a long time, he never thought he would have this again - a wife, a home, a family. He never wanted it after Gallifrey. He thinks of them for a moment, his family that isn’t really lost anymore. Not with all of history happening at once. Somewhere out there, Gallifrey still hangs in the sky and his family still lives. He hasn’t the courage to go looking for them but it’s enough to know they’re out there. It’s enough to know they’ve taught him everything he needs to make a proper go of it again – here, with River.

 

With her, he’d started to think of it again. He’d started to _want_ it again, though he never would have thought of saying so if they didn’t happen to be living out their last days in perfect domesticity in a dying universe. In a cruel twist of fate, the moment the possibility of children became a safe option, they’d found themselves in a world where they could never touch. He’d thought it just wasn’t in the cards for them, had shoved the idea from his mind and forgotten all about it.

 

Until Leo.

 

At his silence, River sighs. “Doctor, if this is you feeling guilty and trying to ease your conscience by helping a little orphan boy -”

 

“It’s not,” he says, finally turning to face her again. “River, I never thought we could – but I _wanted_ -” He huffs, tugging at his hair and looking at her imploringly. River gazes back at him, the space between them heavy with things unsaid. He swallows. “This is our only chance, dear.”

 

River nods like she understands, pursing her lips and looking away before he can see the tears in her eyes. “You really… want this?”

 

The Doctor fidgets, dividing his attention between River and the little boy wobbling on top of the tower of textbooks. As he watches River gingerly transport the boy to the sturdy table top instead, handling him like a dangerous explosive, his lips curl into a smile and he nods. “Only if you do.” He frowns and tries again, forcing the words out haltingly and avoiding her eyes. “Only with you.”

 

“Well.” She breathes out steadily, squaring her shoulders. “Alright then.”

 

Leo beams at them, custard smeared over his mouth.

 

After that, the Doctor starts bringing them home like strays and suddenly there are four of them and River rolls her eyes and calls him soft but she never asks him to stop. A houseful of giggling children isn’t quite the peaceful domesticity they’d enjoyed before but secretly, the Doctor thinks River agrees that it’s even better.

 

He catches her helping the young ones dig in the vegetable patch and teach the ones old enough to handle a gun how to aim properly. He watches her drop tentative kisses into their hair, like someone might catch her and laugh, and he wonders if anyone can see his adoration radiating out of him like sunshine. River does. He can tell by her smile. It’s enough.

 

-

 

His favorite days are when the Ponds come to visit, especially now that Rory has regained his memories. He helps River with dinner while the Doctor and Amy sit in the back garden, watching the children play. They’re loud and rambunctious and every time one of them attempts to climb a tree and falls back down again, Amy laughs at the Doctor’s panicked expression.

 

“Look at you.” She nudges him, sipping her wine. “Like a proper parent, you are.”

 

He frowns, sniffs, and sits back in his garden chair with his arms crossed. “Am not.”

 

“Are so.” She leans over and kisses his cheek. “It’s sweet.”

 

Hedging a cautious glance at her, the Doctor watches her set aside her wine and playfully ruffle the hair of one of his children. “Aren’t you going to say it?”

 

“Say what?”

 

“You know, your usual _the universe is dying and you’re just sitting here, idiot, do something_ bit.” It’s the only part of Amy’s visits he never looks forward to, having to look into her eyes and know that he’s disappointed his little Amelia. That she expects more from him than he’s able to give. “It’s been nearly fifteen whole minutes and you haven’t even started yet.”

 

She snorts. “How can it have been fifteen minutes when the clock never moves, numpty?”

 

“I’m a Time Lord.” He taps his temple with a stern frown that makes her smile. “The clock is in here, Pond.”

 

“Explains your terrible timing then,” she grumbles, arching an eyebrow when he huffs. She sighs and looks away, tapping her fingers against her knee restlessly.

 

While he waits for her to speak up, the Doctor watches as his youngest comes bounding up with a leaf in her little fist. “Tastes funny,” she exclaims, sticking out her tongue.

 

The Doctor plucks the leaf from her hand and discards it with a grin. “Course it does, silly. Try the honeysuckle instead. Much sweeter.” He pats her head and turns her around with a playful swat on the rump, sending her toddling off again. “Off you pop, poppet.”

 

When he turns back to Amy, she’s watching him with a soft smile. “That’s why.”

 

He blinks at her. “Why what?”

 

“Why I’m not doing my ‘usual bit’.” She inclines her head toward the general chaos of the back garden and picks up her wine again. “You’re happy here. River is happy here. I’m not going to ask the two people I love best - besides Rory - to make the choice to be miserable. Not even for the sake of the universe, Raggedy Man.”

 

He gives her a watery smile, squeezing her hand when she pats his. “Well, I’m relieved you’re getting comfy here, Pond.” He turns and calls over his shoulder, “River!”

 

“One moment, sweetie!”

 

The Doctor turns back to Amy, grinning widely at her puzzled stare. “Got something for you. Found her wandering near the lake - thought you might be interested in looking after her for me. We don’t have the room - bit snug here as it is. Well, and River says it would be weird. Also possibly world end-y. Again.”

 

Amy frowns, her brow furrowed. “Doctor, what are you on about? Rory and I don’t want -” The back door opens and River ushers out a little girl - shy and slight, with big brown eyes and ginger hair. The Doctor hears the very moment Amy recognizes her – hears the hitch in her breathing, the sob caught in her throat as she stands on wobbly legs and lurches forward a step. “Is that?”

 

He nods, offering the little girl an encouraging smile. “Melody, this is your Mummy. Say hello.”

 

Melody fixes Amy with a solemn stare, biting her lip as she studies her for a long moment. Taking in Amy’s tear-filled eyes and trembling hands, she finally mumbles a quiet, “Hi.”

 

Amy laughs, stumbling forward and gathering the girl into her arms. Melody melts into the embrace instantly, wrapping her little arms around Amy’s neck and burying her face in her mother’s hair. “My baby,” she whispers. “My sweet girl.”

 

The Doctor glances at River still lurking in the doorway and aches at the sight of tears in her eyes as she watches her mother clutch at her younger self, murmuring soothing nonsense and cradling her close.

 

“Doctor,” Amy chokes out, catching his attention once more. He turns from River and finds her staring at him over the top of Melody’s head. “I don’t understand.”

 

He swallows the lump in his throat and explains gently, “She’s yours here. Nowhere to go now that the Silence have been defeated.”

 

Amy curls her fingers tight into Melody’s thin dress, as if expecting her to be ripped away again if she dares to hope. “You mean -”

 

He nods, giving her a soft smile. “You get to raise your daughter, Pond.”

 

Amy never asks for her Raggedy Man to save the universe again after that. The Doctor spends his last days hugging his children close and smiling at River and the final weight has been lifted from his chest, knowing he isn’t the only one being selfish.

 

-

 

As time splinters and cracks at the seams, the people start disappearing first. Whole continents follow, landmarks and oceans and stars. It all dissolves away as though it had never been and soon enough, the only ones to remain are at the heart of the disruption - the Doctor and his patchwork family.

 

They watch the final death rattle of all of history on their front steps, the children pointing and whispering and giggling as one by one, everything around them disappears. The Doctor is silently thankful they don’t seem to comprehend the gravity of what’s happening, amusing themselves with guessing what will go next and never knowing that it could be any of them.

 

Amy and Rory huddle together, Melody on their laps and encircled in their arms. They have eyes for no one but their daughter – both versions of her – and it soothes something deep in his hearts to know he had returned their child to them after all. They didn’t have enough time with her but they’ve gotten her as a girl and a grown woman and they’d even gotten the middle bit with Mels, even if they hadn’t realized it at the time. It’s fitting, he thinks, that even raising her had never been in the right order.

 

The Doctor winks at the littlest Pond and turns away, hoisting his youngest into his lap and pointing out the split down the middle of the sky, the raw and gaping wound he and River have let fester in this world. The little girl tugs at his bowtie excitedly and smacks a kiss against his cheek.

 

He cuddles her against his chest and wonders what will happen to them all, whether the universe will heal itself given enough time or whether it truly is the end of all things. He glances at River, showing Leo how to point and shoot with his old sonic so he can pretend he’s the making everything _go bye-bye_. As if sensing the Doctor’s gaze, she glances up, smiling when he presses a hand over his hearts.

 

As she returns the gesture with a saucy wink, the Doctor blushes and decides he really doesn’t care what happens next. Whatever it is, it can’t possibly compare to what has been. He wouldn’t trade it for anything - not even more time.

 

Watching River, her eyes are bright as the day he married her and her curls wild and tumbling over her shoulders, he aches down to his very bones to gather her into his arms and hold her one more time. He should have savored it the last time - should have memorized the taste of her kiss and the smell of her perfume, the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He swallows the longing and glances away, his gaze landing on his watch.

 

Hearts lightening instantly, he says, “River, dear?”

 

“Yes, sweetie?”

 

“I’ve just realized it’s our anniversary.”

 

Her eyes crinkle with amusement - every day is their anniversary. “So it is.”

 

He tugs his bowtie undone, offering her one dangling end with what he hopes is a properly suave grin. “Renew our vows?”

 

“Always.”

 

In the last moments of a dying universe, the Doctor and River end things the way they’d begun. A bowtie wrapped snugly around their hands, fingertips nearly brushing, and with eyes only for each other.

 

There are still no regrets.


End file.
